Letters
by bookstolivewith
Summary: Ron wrote letters to Hermione. He just didn't send them. Fluff. One-shot.


Ron wrote letters to Hermione – he wrote quite a few, more than a few. Ron wrote Hermione an astounding amount of letters. He just never sent these letters.

Why? Because he thought they were bad or sappy or boring and he was never content enough to send them.

Why? Because Hermione was intelligent and gorgeous and funny, she was fucking perfect and she deserved these brilliant letters than Ron _just couldn't write_.

Why? Because Ron got distracted when he wrote to Hermione. He got distracted by Hermione while he wrote to Hermione. This resulted in less than brilliant letters.

So, yes, Ron wrote letters. No, he never sent them. Yes, he certainly kept them.

* * *

><p>Ron Weasley had been stuck inside The Burrow <em>all<em> _bloody day_. To pack. For his – their – new flat. They were moving into a flat together. _Ron and Hermione and their first flat. _

Ron was torn between disappointment as wasting such a beautiful day (perfect Quidditch weather) and absolute elation at the thought of the rest of his life with Hermione (the first flat).

Currently, disappointment was weighing out; he watched as Harry and Ginny zoomed around on broomsticks, swooping and diving, playing one-on-one Quidditch in the garden.

"Ron, what's this?" Ron dragged his gaze from the window to look at his girlfriend, who was currently holding a large box full of… letters.

_Shit. _

"Er, nothing. Just junk," said Ron, quickly crossing the floor of his nearly empty room to grab the damn thing from Hermione. She held onto the box tightly; Ron didn't want to waste energy over a box, when it might be used in… other ways and so didn't fight too hard with her.

"Ron, just tell me," Hermione pleaded with him, pouting her lips and widening her eyes. Bloody hell, she knew that always worked on him.

Sighing Ron admitted, "Letters."

"To whom?"

"To… a person."

"Ronald…"

"To you, 'Mione. To you."

Hermione blushed slightly, as if she couldn't believe Ron would write to her and set the box on the bare mattress, whose sheets have been wrestled off hours prior. Slowly, she opened the lid and filtered through the letters, sticking her hand deep inside and pulling several out.

"Ron, there are so many…but… these aren't finished…" she trailed off, examining the letters closely. She was waiting for an explanation and he knew that.

Ron moved behind Hermione and wrapped his arms around her waist, bending slightly so that his chin rested on her head. He inhaled the smell of her hair – all freesias and sugar and the Hogwart's library – and said, "I know – they go all the way back to first year practically. I didn't finish most of them."

"Why?"

"I would get distracted."

"By what?" Hermione poured over the letters, smiling fondly at Ron's second-year handwriting and atrocious spelling.

"You, love." Ron held his breath and watched as Hermione blushed from pleasure. He burrowed his head into her hair, exhaling deeply.

"I'm not _that distrac-_"

"Oh, love. You have no idea."

Hermione smiled benignly at him, dropping the letters back in the box and twirling in Ron's arms; she gently rested her hands behind Ron's neck. Then, she pushed up on her tip-toes, he leaned down and their lips met somewhere in the middle.

It was a lovely, short little kiss but with a lingering promise of forever. _A flat, a house, marriage, children, until death_ - forever.

When they broke apart, foreheads pushed together and Hermione's eyes drifted slowly closed. "So, Ron, do we have to bring them to the flat?"

"No, love. We don't. They're not that good- you don't need to read them, honestly. It's probably better you don't – not that you, er, can't if you want to. I mean," Ron heaved a deep breath before nodding. "Your call, 'Mione."

Hermione turned back toward the box and traced the edges of the letters, before reclosing the box. "Oh, we're taking them. I want to read _all_ of them." Then, she laughs that perfect little tinkling laugh that crinkles her nose _just_ to Ron's liking.

_Shit. _

_Oh, well she loves me. We have a flat. And a forever. So, let her read the damn letters. Shit. _

_She loves me. _


End file.
